Seneca, Moral Letters 14.12

Now you are stretching forth your hand for the daily gift. Golden indeed will be the gift with which I shall load you; and, inasmuch as we have mentioned gold, let me tell you how its use and enjoyment may bring you greater pleasure. 

 

"He who needs riches least, enjoys riches most." 

 

"Author's name, please!" you say. 

 

Now, to show you how generous I am, it is my intent to praise the dicta of other schools. The phrase belongs to Epicurus, or Metrodorus, or some one of that particular thinking-shop.

 

But what difference does it make who spoke the words? They were uttered for the world. He who craves riches feels fear on their account. No man, however, enjoys a blessing that brings anxiety; he is always trying to add a little more. 

 

While he puzzles over increasing his wealth, he forgets how to use it. He collects his accounts, he wears out the pavement in the forum, he turns over his ledger—in short, he ceases to be master and becomes a steward. Farewell. 

 

The closing Epicurean quote for this letter is about our estimation of money, though it is, by extension, also about our estimation of any of our conditions. 

 

The less I make myself dependent upon the acquisition of wealth, the more I will be able to make good use of whatever wealth may come my way. Knowing that possessions are only relative, I do not allow them to get the upper hand. 

 

The negative formulation can sometimes be the more forceful motivator for me, so I also add it to keep myself in line: when I long for things too much, I will only find myself at the mercy of such things. There is no peace in being worried about what might happen, and no rest in never having enough. 

 

This is a helpful tool in understanding how to withdraw from the world, not by avoiding the circumstances, but by rising above the circumstances. Stay firm inside of yourself, and only then are you able to able to relate to what goes on outside of yourself.

 

From an early age, it was already clear to me that I was an oddball, and that I would have great difficulty in meeting the approval of others. In some ways, my first Stoic insight was that I would not need to please the majority in order to be happy, and that I could be quite content by following my own path. 

 

I did not follow this through to its natural conclusion, however, and so I still harbored a deep expectation that somehow, at some point in the future, my situation would fall into place for me. If I was sincere, and worked hard, and went out of my way to show kindness and decency, surely the Good Lord would eventually reward me with some of those nice things that other people had? 

 

This was almost the end of me, as my seemingly innocent hopes had turned into needs, and what should have been preferences were now taking on the form of demands. I pursued a vain career, the company of mercenary friends, and the love of a dishonest woman, and yet I foolishly felt shocked and betrayed when all of them let me down. 

 

“No, they didn’t let you down, since they will be exactly as they will be. You let yourself down, by assuming that they could provide for you what you really needed to provide for yourself.”

 

Yes, thank you, inner voice! Why didn’t you warn me about that earlier?

 

“I did, but you wouldn’t hear me, with all the sound of the horns and the drums. You’re welcome.”

 

A good life is about the virtue in what we do, not about the gratification of what we win. I only recovered something of myself by choosing to do the right thing for its own sake, not for the sake of winning any further compensation, at which point, of course, it ceases to be the right thing. 

 

The Good Lord did reward me, by teaching me an important lesson in self-reliance, the security that doesn’t come from a big bank account, but from a big soul. 

Written in 6/2012